A Heart Unbent Stays Unbroken
by Evenbe
Summary: First or second season Brittana. Remembering a happier time. Sort of. This is a little angsty.


_**Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but belong to Ryan Murphy and Fox. I'm merely borrowing them.**_

_**Another short, slightly-angsty-but-happier-than-my-other-stuff thing. I don't know I might write something happy about these two at some point. I hadn't anticipated Brittana falling apart so shittily in canon when I started this. I've stopped watching the show so they only exist in fan fiction for me now. I'm still clinging to those first couple seasons before they were officially together. Things were somehow more interesting then. Anyway, enjoy!**_

"What do you think love feels like?" Brittany murmured into Santana's hair, her heart pace slow and even, but a fluttering beginning in her belly. The way Santana was nuzzling into her neck felt familiar and exciting.

They were curled together on the couch at Brittany's place, the television a quiet distraction in the corner. It was a calm Saturday evening. The sun was beginning it's decent through the window to the west, casting shadows over the coffee table where an empty bowl of popcorn sat besides crushed soda cans.

Brittany felt Santana's soft edges stiffen in her lap. She knew that meant Santana was about to use her mean voice. The sarcastic one that Brittany hated because she knew it meant Santana was lying again.

"I don't know." Santana shrugged, one sardonic eyebrow lifting; preparing. "Probably nothing like a Hallmark card, though. Those pieces of crap are so gross."

Santana turned her head away from Brittany's neck where she had been kissing softly under her jawline. Brittany liked the way it made her whole body warm. Somehow there was more of her body to feel when that happened. She wondered how. Did she get bigger with all the blood flow so close to the surface? She wondered if her body expanded the way she had learned from a television program about science that metal expands with heat and shrinks with cold. She started feeling herself get smaller with the absence of Santana's lips and remembered the question she had just asked.

"I like some Hallmark cards. Especially the ones with puppies that are dressed as people. Those are funny. Sometimes they're not funny, though. Sometimes they're just cute." Brittany smiled at nothing, her memory floating to the birthday card she had received from her aunt two months ago. The one with a puppy wearing a pair of reading glasses sitting in front of a propped open book. She frowned when Santana scoffed.

"You would."

Brittany didn't ask what Santana meant by that, but she felt her stomach shrink and get cold. She also felt when Santana pulled just the slightest from her body, staying in her lap but creating space where a moment ago there had been the warm press of skin. Brittany curled her arms tighter around Santana's waist and leaned forward to burrow her forehead against Santana's shoulder. She wanted to lean into Santana's sweet girly smell that reminded Brittany of gardenias and stay floating in it for hours.

Santana still felt stiff, though, so Brittany let go and leaned back, looking into Santana's face. She had a crease in her brow, not a confused one like the one Brittany saw on her own face in pictures of herself, but a mean one. Her eyebrows hovered low over her eyes and there were wrinkles all over her forehead and around her brow. Brittany wondered if it hurt Santana's face to scowl so much. She thought it would hurt to constantly have tension so close to her brain.

Brittany couldn't help but ask again, "Really, Santana. What do you think love is like? Do you think you've ever been in love?"

Santana's brown eyes finally met hers. Her face slackened the tiniest bit. Brittany stroked a hand up and down Santana's side and waited, trying to follow the rise and fall of emotion on Santana's face. It was subtle and most people didn't see how much Santana cared about things, but Brittany knew her too well. Her sarcastic face had so many different meanings. Finally Santana sighed and blew a few strands of chocolate hair that had cascaded from the clip in her hair out of her face.

"I don't know Brittany. I don't know if I believe in love. I think sex feels really good and people just use love as an excuse to keep getting it from the same person." Santana shrugged and flipped her hair, her body saying, _let's move on to something else, this is boring_. Brittany wasn't sure she believed Santana really felt that way. She kept watching Santana's face for a clue to what she really wanted to say, or whether that was exactly what she meant to say.

Brittany thought of a scared animal, like a squirrel or a deer. Possibly a bunny, but somehow that image didn't quite fit Santana. A deer, Brittany decided. Not twitchy like a squirrel. Poised and elegant like a deer about to sprint back into a forest, too quick to catch even with a glance.

The deep divots creasing Santana's forehead were like ripples cutting across a smooth pond and they disturbed the peaceful image of the deer. Brittany began to reach a hand up to smooth the mean lines away, but Santana began squirming in her lap, finally pulling completely from Brittany's grasp and sliding sideways onto the couch beside Brittany. She began straightening her clothes, brushing a hand through her mussed hair, trying to erase the evidence of their caresses.

Brittany hoped that Santana would ask her the same question back. Would ask her what _she_ thought love felt like. Because she was starting to think she may know. But Santana merely leaned back, a bored expression on her face and asked, "Should we order a pizza or something? Or no, let's ask Quinn if she wants to go to Breadstix."

The warmth that had expanded Brittany's body moments ago seeped out in wisps drawn out her pores by Santana's shut-off tone. She felt deflated, chilly now, even with Santana pressed up against her left side. Santana was shifting forward on the couch, searching for her phone. Brittany lifted her shoulders in a small shrug, lips drawing into a pout before she could stop them.

"Whatever. I don't care."

Santana's head turned in a pivot, no other part of her body moving. Brittany felt Santana's look bumping against her face, still not quite warm again.

"Britt?" It came out so soft Brittany almost didn't recognize Santana's voice. She had only used that tone of voice with her a few times and it usually made Brittany light up inside. This time it simply halted the chilling of her blood.

Santana sighed when Brittany didn't respond. She gave up the search for her phone and sank back into the couch again. Then Brittany felt a warmth on her left leg. Santana was dancing her fingers across her skin, making them take steps from her knee to the sensitive place of her inner thigh and Brittany gasped, goosebumps lifting along her whole leg. Santana veered her path up to Brittany's stomach and fluttered her fingers over the sensitive skin just light enough to tickle.

Sometimes it happened slowly, Brittany's response to a gentle caress that built and ran in shivers down her spine before she couldn't handle the sensation anymore. But this time Santana went right for the kill, knowing the exact pressure to use on just the right spot on Brittany's relaxed skin. The heat shot through Brittany and she collapsed in laughter.

"Ah!" Brittany tried to wiggle away from Santana's grasping hand, a loud giggle exploding out of her, unable to stop her body from convulsing. "Stop! No tickling. Not fair."

It really wasn't fair. Not when she was way more ticklish than Santana and couldn't even retaliate with a brush against Santana's knee, the only place she could reach at the odd angle her body had suddenly twisted without warning or command.

It wasn't fair when Brittany had soft spots along her entire body that shot uncomfortable electric shocks everywhere, rendering her incapable of anything but squealing in laughter and babbling incomprehensibly. The shocks were part pleasure part pain and her brain didn't have enough time to rest to decide if she wanted it to continue or stop so her body squirmed out of her own control, trying to stay and go simultaneously.

Santana's fingers were gentle, but suddenly fluttering all over her most sensitive parts. That place in the crease of her neck, her sides above her hips, and suddenly squeezing her knee in a way that Brittany would think cruel if she believed Santana had any idea how not fun being that ticklish could be.

But Brittany knew she didn't have a clue.

She had once spent an entire afternoon trying to find Santana's ticklish spots. It had been a lazy Saturday and Brittany had been sidetracked from her mission with Santana's naked body beneath her, inviting kisses and caresses that caused a slowness and a sleepy arousal. It had taken her hours to reach her goal. Santana was unresponsive to tickles everywhere but one place. The tender arch of her foot had caused a jolt and when brushed gently in that little space not much larger than Brittany's thumb, Santana had finally yanked her foot out of her grasp: her armor pierced, her composure shattered.

Brittany rarely used this knowledge because it had caused such a frightened look to cross Santana's face. Brittany knew why. Santana kept herself together so carefully most of the time. Brittany visualized Santana's armor as a carefully woven cloth. It was tight, and it had layer upon layer of thick fabric. She saw it corset-like, cutting off air, keeping her contained.

But sometimes, Brittany thought, Santana was close enough to unraveling that a simple tickle fit could be enough for her weaving to come undone. And maybe Santana wouldn't forgive her for that. So Brittany left that patch of Santana alone, left her threads in tact.

But this was too much. Santana was being unrelenting in her attacks and Brittany's limbs were curling and twisting like she was a puppet on strings jumping spasmodically, pulled and yanked by Santana's dancing fingertips. Brittany knew if she didn't act fast Santana would end up with an accidental elbow in her face and a black eye, so she rolled off the couch into a crouch on the floor.

The first thing she became aware of as she tried to catch her breath was Santana's foot, suddenly eye level and right there within reach. She glanced up and saw Santana reaching for her again so she grabbed Santana's ankle in self-defense and went for it. Santana squealed instantly and her free foot shot towards Brittany's head, but Santana wasn't faster than Brittany's cat-like reflexes and she grabbed the foot just before it connected with her eye. It was time for revenge.

Santana's squeal pierced the momentary stillness of the room and Brittany watched her reaction carefully, but kept her fingers moving over the arch of Santana's foot. Santana's face had crumpled in on itself in shock, but the squinty edges of her eyes were crinkled in a playful upstroke. Most revealing, her mouth was the most lax part of her face, wide open, her throat not choking on breath but inhaling and exhaling in puffs, the edges of her lips curling in a Cheshire grin. She looked pleased. So Brittany kept going until Santana squirmed sideways on the couch, laying loose and giggly, her foot dangling over the edge, held in Brittany's clutches.

Santana's hands both shot up to cover her face, pressing into her eyes, but her mouth stayed wide open and laughing. Deep guttural laughs that made Brittany's heart smile. Then, gasping, "Stop! Brittany, stop!"

But it was breathed with that wide open, curling, tender mouth in a way that said _don't stop I love it_, so Brittany merely eased up a bit, relaxed her hold so Santana could retrieve her foot if she wished. But Santana continued giggling and cupping her face like she was holding herself together. A string had loosened, and she wasn't defeated. Not yet.

Brittany smiled, pulled her fingers away, leaned her head in, cupping Santana's ankle, and kissed the curve of Santana's most tender skin. Santana's hands slid down her face at that and peeked over the edge of the couch at Brittany, her eyes wide and moist with tears. So Brittany did it again. Santana reached for her with a tentative arm. One more kiss to her arch, open mouthed and wet and Santana's arm fell, her mouth and face relaxing in a completely different way now.

Brittany moved to Santana's toes while Santana's eyes tracked her movement, watching, waiting, wondering what would come next. A mouth opening over toes came next, tongue wrapping gently in a cradle around Santana's big toe. Santana's head fell back, her arm came up to reach once more for Brittany and this time Brittany moved forward into the touch, dropping Santana's foot and raising up to her knees. She grasped Santana's hand in hers and pressed it to her cheek, her eyes never leaving Santana's face.

When Santana's gaze met hers, they both smiled. Santana looked peaceful, doe-like. Trusting. _This_, Brittany thought as she slipped a finger under Santana's shirt, imagining the corset loosening. She leaned in for a happily received kiss. _This is what love feels like._

_**Thanks for reading. :)**  
_


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